


Stranded

by DjDangerLove



Category: Prodigal Son (TV 2019)
Genre: JT Tarmel Acting as Malcolm Bright's Older Brother, Malcolm Bright & JT Tarmel Friendship, Protective JT Tarmel, Uncle Malcolm Bright, reposted after I deleted it months ago, slight Malcolm Bright whump
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-26
Updated: 2020-08-26
Packaged: 2021-03-07 00:27:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,305
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26128027
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DjDangerLove/pseuds/DjDangerLove
Summary: JT's having a bad day. Bright is suspiciously quiet. To top it all off, they're stranded ten miles out from the nearest town.
Relationships: Malcolm Bright & JT Tarmel
Comments: 3
Kudos: 93





	Stranded

JT knew that today was going to be a bad day. For starters, he’d made a bet with Johnson, a narcotics detective from Brooklyn, that the Knicks would easily beat the Nets by ten in last night’s basketball game. So this morning, he was ten minutes late to the precinct because the expresso machine from the eight dollar a cup coffee shop down the block broke right as he went to order the payout he owed Johnson. He spent two extra dollars for a plain large coffee and still received petty flack from the detective who had anything other than the sludge that came out of the break room machine. 

Sipping on said sludge, JT shuffled into the conference room, tired from staying up late and exhausted from his bad mood. Gil simply raised an eyebrow, fully aware of the bet he’d lost and kept discussing their current case while Dani made it a point to roll up a scrap piece of paper and toss it way outside of the trash can with an exaggerated follow through motion. 

He grumbled as he kicked the empty chair out from under the table to sit down and made a face at Bright when he nearly jumped out of his skin. The profiler, silent in a way he usually is not, simply straightened his suit sleeve and went back to skimming over an open file. 

Maybe JT’s day wouldn’t be so bad after all. 

Relaxing under the sudden optimism that Bright would be somewhat subdued today and that he’d already settled his stupid bet, JT dove into the case with a bit more enthusiasm. It seemed like a pretty cut and dry bank robbery turned deadly situation if only they could find the guy the bank robbers were working for. 

Dani, apparently thinking the same thing, offered to track down an informant she knows to see if he knew anything about a bigger operation. Gil agreed before dismissing her and then slid a folder over to JT. 

“Meanwhile, I need to you to check this guy out. David Davenport. Surveillance caught him multiple times at the bank in the last week. Could be nothing, but can’t rule it out. It’s a ways out. Take Bright with you.”

“Uh, Boss?” JT questioned, his bad mood returning quickly at being sent to check out a possible dead end with a tagalong. 

“I have meetings all afternoon and Bright might be useful getting a read on the guy,” Gil offered while staring at their profiler with a furrowed brow. “Bright? You listening?”

Malcolm popped his head up from where it was buried in a file looking more distracted than usual, but nodded all the same. “Yeah. Meetings. Guy at the bank. Get a read on him.”

“You’re with JT,” Gil repeated, jutting his chin towards the man standing up from the table. 

Bright froze at that, a split of a second, before nodding once. “Cool.”

“Is it?” JT asked, sipping down the last of the his so-called coffee in his styrofoam cup and tossing it in the trash. 

“Of course,” Bright lied while packing up his things and following JT out of the conference room. He snaked left of Tarmel to place his things on his desk then doubled back to catch up with the detective at the door. 

“Thanks for the coffee, Tarmel,” Bright overheard Johnson snicker as he circled the lobby. JT waved him off with a middle finger, but Bright pulled up short.

“Sorry about the loss, Detective Johnson,” he feigned sympathy and played dumb under Johnson’s snarky, “What the hell are you on about? We won.”

“Oh!” Bright touched his hand to his forehead and waved it dismissively. “Sorry, I’m not really a fan of basketball…or sports in general, but I guess I was thinking of championships.”

JT circled around so fast at the door that it closed on his foot. Johnson let smugness turn up the corner of his mouth as he brushed it with his hand. “Stay your lane, _Bright_. Both teams are tied at two championships.”

Malcolm frowned in confusion and glanced at JT, silently asking for his input though it was obvious he didn’t need it. “Well…the Nets have two ABA championships. Knicks have two NBA plus more conference titles.”

“Well, look who-“

“Okay, Bright, we gotta go,” JT cut in, still looking stunned, but dragging Malcolm by the arm out the door and onto the street. Both were silent as they made their way to Tarmel’s car and only when both of them were buckled in with the car running did JT look over and ask, “What was that?”

“Care to be more specific?”

“Do I really need to be?” JT scoffed, but his voice was impressed. “The whole Good Will Hunting going SportsCenter on Johnson. You hate sports.”

Bright laughed softly. “I don’t _hate_ them.”

“Bro. We’ve been working together what? Six? Seven months? I know you don’t keep up with basketball, not enough to know any of what you just said.”

Bright rolled his eyes, but motioned at JT to start driving. “Maybe because you just assumed that I don’t like sports therefore, don’t think I know anything about basketball.”

While theoretically that could be true, JT knew it was bullshit but decided to let it go lest he lose his second sprout of optimism for the day.

———————

Pulling up to the Davenport property popped his enthusiasm quite literally. 

He’d just spent an hour drive in silence except for the radio, and while he knew he should’ve been worried about Bright keeping his mouth shut that long he was rather relieved given the caffeine headache he had pounding behind his eyes. The one cup of sludge hadn’t been enough. 

He turned his car down the gravel drive, cursing under his breath at the dust swirling up and painting his vehicle no matter how slow he tried to go. Up ahead, just past a row of trees, he could see a single chain dangling between two poles stabbed in the ground blocking the rest of their way up the drive. Not that it would matter considering not two seconds after he noticed it he heard a distinctive pop and felt a shake as one of his tires blew out.

“Oh, you’ve gotta be kidding me.”

“Hmm. I think it’s the right front,” Bright announced, calm and matter-of-fact. 

JT huffed, “What does it matter?” His irritation stifled the car like humid summer air. “The spare is already on and the last service station…the last anything we passed is at least ten miles out on foot. No telling how long it will take to get somebody out here with a new one.”

“Maybe this guy can help us,” Bright suggested while getting out of the car. He ducked his head back down wearing a ridiculous grin. “You know, if he’s not our suspect. Oh, and by the way, it’s definitely the right front.”

Visualizing breaking the steering wheel in half, JT squeezed it with both hands before forcing himself out of the car. He trailed Bright before thinking better of it as they reached the chain blocking the drive. He picked up his pace so he reached it first, keeping the younger man slightly behind him as the tops of the windows of the Davenport home came into view just over the hill. 

“Maybe we should call ahead,” Bright said in lieu of pointing out that he knew JT purposefully stood in front of him. “So he doesn’t start shooting.”

“Who’s to say he won’t anyway?” JT countered while pulling out his phone then shoved it back in his pocket. “No service. Try yours.”  
Malcolm had no better luck. “Looks like we chance it. After you,” Malcolm teased with a wave of his hand and laughed out right when JT gently shoved him backwards and started towards the house. 

They made it to the front door without a single gun drawn although JT did rest his hand on the butt of his holstered weapon when David Davenport stepped out onto his porch holding a scruffy looking cat in one hand and shielding his eyes from the sun with the other. 

“Who’s there?”

“Mr. Davenport?” Bright greeted, coming to a stop right before the porch steps as David, a fifty year old, beer-gutted man with a receding hair line dropped down to the top step to sit. “My name is Malcolm Bright. This is Detective Tarmel. We’re with the NYPD and would like to ask you a few questions.” 

“NYPD?” Davenport repeated, stroking his mangy cat that purred at his hip. “This isn’t about the bank thing is it? Did they call you? Now, listen, I wasn’t trying to be rude, but this land is my livelihood. Been in my family for years! I can’t lose it! I’ve been trying to get a small loan, just to fix up a couple of machines I got. Tractors and such, but no matter what I bring to the table they keep turning me down.” 

Bright glanced at JT, silently agreeing that piece of information could be motive, but that they both believed he was being genuine. In the midst of their silent conversation, the scruffy cat jumped down from the steps and wandered limply down the stretch of the porch in the grass.

“Would you mind grabbing him?” David asked. “I can’t catch him and he won’t come back in God knows when if he wanders. He’s got a bum leg so he can’t run away if the dogs get after him either.”

JT raised an unimpressed brow and motioned for Bright to follow after the cat, but the profiler held up his hands. “I’m allergic.”

“Of course you are,” he muttered with a flare of annoyance that had him walking in the direction of the cat sitting at the corner of the house even though it meant leaving Bright alone with their suspect.

Bright turned back to Davenport. “So you’ve drove over an hour to the bank three days in a row?”

“The only bank closer won’t give me a loan. Done deal there. I told you, Mr. Bright. It’s my livelihood at stake here.”

“I understand, Mr. Davenport,” Malcolm assured, watching JT circle around the corner of the house when the cat scurried away from his outstretched hands. “The bank made no complaints against you. It was actually robbed two days ago. Our surveillance team spotted you multiple times at the bank so you can see how we might need to ask some questions. We’re only here to rule you out as a suspect.”

“Have you ruled me out, then? Because I didn’t rob any bank.”

“Not quite. I have a few mor-“ but before he could finish his sentence Mr. Davenport lurched from his sitting position on the top step and tackled Bright to the ground. His mind blanked for a few seconds as his head connected to the ground and by the time he came to, Dave had gotten in a few solid punches to his face, a nasty one to his nose in particular, before leaping off of him and running to his pick-up truck parked in the drive. 

By the time it revved to life, Malcolm had turned over onto all fours trying to get his head to stop spinning before standing up, but Davenport floored it in reverse and was barreling it down the gravel way, tires spitting rocks as he went. JT came sprinting around the house, gun drawn and firing shots at the truck too far off, before dropping beside Malcolm. 

“Bro? You good?”

Sitting back on his heels, Bright tried to breathe through his mouth without gagging on the blood draining in his throat from his nose. He nodded once and used his sleeve to wipe away some of the blood. He winced at the pain that shot through his face. 

“Did you catch the cat?”

“The-“ JT breathed in disbelief. “No, Bright. I didn’t catch the damn cat!”

Malcolm bent forward to let the blood drain out of his nose and rubbed at the back of his head. His hand came away a bit more bloodier. “Well, good news is we know who the organizer is.”

JT holstered his gun with a flurry of aggravated gestures and then squatted down in front of Bright with a face full of sarcasm smothered in concern. “Yeah, bro. We did good.”

Malcolm chuckled through the pain it caused him, spitting into the grass when too much blood pooled in his throat. JT laid a hand on his shoulder. “For real? You good? What happened?”

“He tackled me,” Malcolm elaborated, then grinned with bloody teeth. “If I’d known, I would’ve taken the cat.”

“Sure, but you’re allergic,” JT reminded him as he peered over the crown of Malcolm’s head to look at the open wound there. Bleeding, but sluggish and shallow. At Malcolm’s lack of response he leaned back to look at his face. “You’re _allergic_. Aren’t you?”

“Sure,” Bright replied, more concerned with testing the bridge of his nose with his fingers than making JT angrier. 

“I’m glad he didn’t kill you,” JT grumbled as he stood up, steadying Malcolm who swayed a bit. “So I can do it my damn self.” He glared down at Bright feeling around his eyes at the swelling before heading in the direction of the house.

“Where you goin’?” Bright questioned, voice nasally now that his nose was without a doubt broken. 

“Clear the house. Check for a phone to call Gil but his file just listed a cell number.” JT made it on the porch before turning around. “And find something to clean you up. _Don’t_ move.”

“Seems counterintuitive if you’re gonna kill me, but scout’s honor,” Bright promised, holding two bloody fingers up in a mock salute before scooting himself back to sit on the bottom step of the porch. 

“I can’t imagine what that scout group was like.”

——————

JT wished he could go back to earlier in the morning. Be a little less bitter about losing a bet. Grab one more cup of coffee on the way out. Figure out what the hell was going on with Bright on the hour long drive. 

Maybe if he’d done any number of those things, it would have made the fact that there wasn’t a phone to call anyone with a little less infuriating. He stood in front of the freezer a solid minute trying to collect himself, but staring at a neon yellow magnet with brown lettering reading, “Shit Happens” didn’t exactly help. 

Mumbling a curse under his breath, he opened the freezer and found his first bit of good luck for the day in an unopened bag of frozen meatballs. He grabbed it then rummaged around until he had two dishrags and a bottle of water along with it. He trekked back through the house while wondering just how in the hell they were going to get in touch with somebody and fix the tire on his car, but pulled up short when he stepped out onto the porch. The _vacant_ porch. 

“Shit.”

Dropping the items he’d gathered for Bright, he reached for his gun just at the time the missing man came wandering around the corner of the house holding Davenport’s cat. 

“The hell, man?! I told you not to move!” JT shouted, eyeing the younger man up and down as he shuffled up the steps and let the cat inside the house. “What happened to scout’s honor?”

“I never finished scouts.” Bright grinned, teeth still stained red. “Besides, I heard Chester’s collar.”

“Disregard your own well being for a bank robbing murder’s cat? Makes sense.” JT deadpanned and bent down to pick up the items he dropped. “And Chester?”

“That’s what his tag says and it’s not the cat’s fault David is in the crime business.”

JT sighed while shoving the meatballs, towels, and water at Bright. “Here. Wash off then hold that to your face for the swelling.”

Malcolm studied the bag of frozen meat. “There weren’t any vegetables?”

“Oh, there were. But you get the meatballs.”

Bright narrowed his eyes the best he could under the swelling. 

———————

The short walk back to the car was an enjoyable one if only for the fact that JT took multiple pictures of Bright holding a family size bag of frozen meatballs to his face. 

“I’m saving this one as your contact picture in my phone,” he commented while snapping another one when they came to a stop beside the car. He took another as Bright glared around the corner of the bag and admitted, “And I’m sending this one to Dani when I get a signal so she can save it for hers.”

“I’ll be sure to change yours to the Nets logo,” Malcolm said while leaning his weight against the side of the car with a grimace. “Now, can we please figure out a way to get out of here?”

JT sobered a bit, if only for the physical discomfort Bright was trying to hide, and went to the trunk to pull out his first aid kit and another bottle of water. “I’ll have to backtrack to find a signal, I guess. Car radio won’t do any good.”

He placed the kit on top of the car and rummaged through it until he found a bottle of specific pain reliever. “Frist things first. You need this.”

While shaking out two pills, Bright pulled the bag of frozen meatballs from his face and frowned. “I…can’t take those.I have to-“

“Take ones that don’t mess with your other meds. I know. These won’t,” JT assured and held out his hand for the younger man to take them. When Bright just continued to stare at him, he placed the pills in Bright’s hand after turning it palm up and closed it into a fist. “Don’t make it weird.”

“How, um…did Gil-“

“No. Look being part of a team means watching each others backs. Gotta know the important stuff. That’s all it is.” JT nudged Bright’s hand again and held out the bottle of water. “Now, take them so we can move on.”

Bright did as he was told for once, gagging just a bit at the metallic taste of his swallow, and then placed the water on top of the car. “So, I guess we just walk until we get a signal huh?”

“Uh, no. _I_ walk until I find a signal.” JT corrected. Digging around in the bottom of the first aid kit, he pulled out a bandage to cover the bridge of the younger man’s nose to relive it a bit until it could be properly dealt with. “You’re staying here.”

“My nose is broken,” Bright argued, dodging out of the way when JT held out an alcohol towelette to wipe at his head. “That hardly justifies leaving me with the car.”

JT scowled at Bright’s movements and maneuvered him so that he could see the cut on the crown of Malcolm’s head. Finding it, barely bleeding and in no need of stitches, he dabbed the wipe at it just to be sure, and ignored Bright’s protests until he was satisfied it would be fine until they got back. 

“You’re in a world of pain. I don’t want to hear any bitching while searching for cell service.”

“You won’t,” Bright grinned and somehow made it bigger when JT rolled his eyes. “Scout’s honor.”

———————

“Two miles. Two damn miles and nothing.”

“You know,” Bright offered for the first time in their long trek of finding cell service or just another person with a phone. “For someone who didn’t want to hear any complaining-“

“Stop. Just stop.”   
Silence befell them once again all but the sound of the occasional bird in the trees lining the road they were following back in the direction of town and the light swoosh of JT’s NYPD windbreaker as it hung off of Malcolm’s smaller frame. It had been one of JT’s many conditions for not leaving Malcolm at the car. He’d made a good point of not wanting to walk down the road with someone with a bloody shirt while looking for help, but it hadn’t made it any better when the thing nearly swallowed him whole. 

It fell to his mid thighs and the extra material at the sides annoyingly billowed out when the breeze blew particularly hard, but it did beat sitting at the car by himself so he hadn;t made a fuss over it. 

“So what’s with you, man?”

JT’s question caught him a bit by surprise, but he covered it by testing the bruising around his eyes with his fingertips. 

“Stop messing with it. That’ll only make it worse.”

Bright dropped his hand with a slow exhale of pent up air. 

“So, answer the question. Looks like we got a while unless somebody drives by.”

Bright shrugged. “I thought you wanted me to be quiet?”

“You’re never quiet. Not at this level. All day. You’ve been off since this morning.”

“I don’t know. Maybe you just think that since you’ve been in a _cheery_ mood yourself.”

“Mmhm,” JT tried not to laugh. “I see you. I just let one frustrating thing snowball today. That’s it. Nothing against you, Bro.”

Bright nodded as they continued to walk side by side and avoided the older man’s gaze when he pressed, “So, you gonna tell me what’s going on in that head of yours or am I going to have to wait until the doc’s got you all loopy on pain meds to set your nose to get it out of you.”

Malcolm bit the inside of his cheek at the thought of being slightly out of his mind of pain medicine but decided to weasel himself out of that when the time came and chanced a glance at JT.

“Um…it’s just…Tally sent me a text last night.”

“Tally.” JT stopped in his tracks. “Sent you a text. Last night.”

Bright spun around on the spot at the implication of that phrasing and hurried to clarify, “It’s not like that!”

“I know it’s not,” JT countered while crossing his arms. “So that’s why I’m concerned. What’s she texting you about?”

“She said she’s been having funny dreams. About the baby.” Malcolm explained, shrinking himself just a bit in JT’s jacket. “She wanted to know if I knew what they meant. I guess, like if psychologically, they meant anything.”

“And?”

Bright laughed softly. “And they don’t mean anything.”

JT studied him for a minute and then raised an eyebrow. “So why’s that got you all…mopey today?”

“Oh,” Bright turned and started walking in the direction of town again. “Mopey isn’t the word I’d use-“

“It’s the right one. Now, why?” JT asked, gentle in a way he usually isn’t, as he caught up to Malcolm. 

“She…said something before we hung up.”

JT waited, giving Bright the chance to work up the courage to say whatever it was.

After a few moments, Bright sighed, “She said…I’m going to be a good uncle.”

JT cocked his head to the side. “So?”

“So…I don’t know why she said that.”

For as much as both of them wanted to get back as soon as possible, they kept stopping an awful lot, but JT squared on him anyway because it nearly blindsided him that Bright was that unaware. 

“What do you mean you don’t know?”

Malcolm shrunk back just a bit and fidgeted under the question.  
“I mean, we’re not fami-“

“Don’t.” JT shook his head. “Don’t say that, man. You know you’re part of the team and the team is family. Why are you questioning that?”

“I’m not. I just…I’m not exactly uncle material.”  
JT stepped closer, smiling at the way his windbreaker hung off of Bright’s smaller stature and tried to remember when the crazy kid really did become his little brother when a thought struck him.

“Wait. Is this why you suddenly know so much about basketball?”

“I may have indulged in some light historical reading in regards to the game last night.”

JT bursted out laughing and stumbled into Bright with a quick apology when the younger man groaned at being jostled. “Bright, man…why?”

“Well, I thought if I knew about all the stuff you and Tally like…all the stuff your child will probably be interested in, I might not be the _worst_ uncle in the world.”

“Bro, that’s not how being an uncle works.” JT slung an arm around Malcolm and started walking again. “As long as you care about my kid the way you care about everyone else, that’s all that matters. Kid’s gonna have one hell of an uncle and I’m gonna make sure they know it.”

Malcolm didn’t have a response to that, but offered a sheepish grin for a split second before gently twisting out from under JT’s arm and looking down at his phone to check for service. 

“Hey! I have service! Not great, but I might can get through to Gil to send someone.” He pressed the phone to his ear after dialing and heard it ring. “It’s going through!”

JT fist pumped the air with relief and then checked his own phone while Bright explained to Gil their situation once he picked up. 

JT pulled up the picture of Bright glaring while holding a pack of frozen meatballs to his face and sent it to the team’s group text with the caption : “Italian dinner at Maggiano’s on Bright tonight after he gets his nose fixed.”

Then he sent a quick text to Tally letting her know he’d be late tonight and then a second one reading: _Talked to Uncle Mal today. You we’re right. He’s going to be a really good uncle._


End file.
